Discretion is the Better Part of Valor
by Kodachrome
Summary: Wolfram is injured in battle, and as a result has lost his ability to hear and speak. Now he and Conrad must make their way back home in order to warn Yuuri of a possible new threat to Shin Makoku. Conrad & Wolfram - Brotherly Love/Non-Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sooo…my first KKM fic. Actually, my first fic in a long time. I haven't written in ages, except reports for school, but those don't count. Sorry if I'm a bit rusty. It's 2am and I could care less about grammar and spelling. Anyways, this is just randomness on my part. I was terribly bored tonight and had nothing better to do. Not sure where I'm going with it and whether I'll finish it. ;;

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Wolfram's horse charged at break-neck speed as its rider spurred it on, fiercely snapping the reins and digging his heels sharply into the animal's flanks. Bringing out his sword, he easily cut through the line of men before him, slashing his way to the forefront of the battle. With each swing he could feel the metal of his blade making contact with flesh and bone, but paid it no mind. As a soldier, he had been educated in the art of warfare and had been forced to draw blood on several occasions before. The adrenaline of battle coursed through his veins so that everything else around him seemed insignificant. His mind was alert and focused, only seeking to be the victor at this point. Dark crimson splattered across his royal blue uniform as he continued to press forward, his usually innocent eyes narrowed, seething with intense ferocity as the melee continued all around him.

It had been an ambush. A small group of insurgents, heavily armed and adequately trained had descended upon them. Ruthless in their methods, they did not even give out so much as a battle cry before they rushed down the hill in the direction of Wolfram and his entourage.

He should have seen it coming, or rather heard it. The men were all on horseback. In truth, he had felt the vibration upon the earth, could hear the galloping hooves, but neither he nor his friends had any time to properly react before a cluster of men surrounded them. Wolfram did not even have a chance to question their leader or determine their motives before they began their onslaught.

This was obviously a mission of pure carnage, the blond reasoned seeing as the soldiers did not appear to have anyone particular in mind as they mercilessly hacked and slashed their way through his accompanying forces. He wondered what their intent was exactly. Was this a declaration of war? If so, then from whom? He certainly didn't recognize any of them. Were they human? Mazoku?

No time to discern that now, he thought regretfully.

A sharp cry of pain diverted his attention to the left where a large, fully armored man had impaled one of his comrades. Wolfram's eyes shifted to the enemy. He had never seen such armor before. If only he could figure out who these men were. It was more than just mere curiosity; it was the need to give them an identity. For Wolfram, it was easier to direct his hatred toward something if he knew exactly what it was. Otherwise it was just a waste of time. His gaze did not remain on the man for long however, and was soon fixed on the eyes of his friend. They were a deep shade of azure, and as the haze of battle temporarily left him, his mind quickly sprang to life. It only took him an instant to recognize the owner of those eyes, and the knowledge caused his heart to seize momentarily. The normally immobile muscle seemed to shift into his throat as he watched the scene in shocked horror, anguish evident in the swirling pools of blue before him. Wolfram turned to help, but was immediately accosted by another soldier. Metal hit metal with a loud clang and a shower of sparks as both men brought up their weapons. There was no time to aid his friend, likewise there was no point. He had already slipped out of the saddle and was now laid out on the ground, a dark puddle pooling around his lifeless form.

Wolfram gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. He was clearly no match in strength for his opponent, no matter what level his swordsmanship skills were at, but this minor technicality would not deter him in the slightest. As anyone who knew Wolfram could attest to, what he lacked in power, he certainly made up for in persistence.

Shifting his weight, he managed to urge his horse back in a quick motion, causing the swords to break apart. The soldier immediately drew his weapon away, preparing to attack once more. Wolfram braced himself and waited to repel his opponent when he felt something hard connect with his lower back. Wincing in irritation, he turned to find a pair of men fighting to his rear, one of them had inadvertently elbowed him in the ribs. The blond let out a soft grunt and nudged his horse forward a bit as his opponent brought his sword down once more. Fighting in such contained quarters was both dangerous and bothersome, he mentally remarked, bringing his sword up once again. Not only was it exceedingly difficult to battle with broad swords, but also hard to avoid the enemy's blows, whether they were directed towards him or not.

With this thought, searing pain shot through his left arm as the blade of his opponent's sword sliced through the sturdy fabric of his uniform, cutting deep into his skin. The blond repressed the urge to cry out and instinctively jerked the reins to the right. Realizing his mistake at having left his vulnerable side open, he quickly whipped the horse back around and brought his own sword down in a horizontal slice. His reaction was so fast; even he did not have time to register its repercussions as the head of his adversary rolled to a stop near his horse's right hoof. The boy looked down at the head with a mix of mild shock and nausea. He had killed men before, but never in this fashion. They had usually died sometime after the wounds were inflicted, never directly from one of his attacks. He was startled at the ease in which he had accomplished this and discomfited with the fact that he felt no remorse. Bile began to rise into the back of his throat, but he hastily swallowed, forcing it back down along with the emotions that rose with it.

In an instant he was ripped from his thoughts and literally hurled back onto the field of battle as a small explosion sent his horse rearing. The fall managed to jar his head and knock the wind out of him. Unfortunately those were the least of his concerns as a tangle of hooves threatened to trample him. He immediately rolled to the side, shielding his head as a large hoof planted itself into his back.

Wolfram let out a strangled cry that came out as more of a squeak due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He certainly could not die like this; he would never forgive himself if his own horse was the cause of his demise. Quickly, he reeled to one side, hoping he wasn't placing himself right back into the path of danger. His shoulders sagged in relief as he watched his horse tear off into the crowd of soldiers. Wolfram lay on his side, his mouth open, attempting to gasp for air. It took the boy several minutes to compose himself. His lungs burned, but he forced them to work once more as he pushed himself up onto his knees. His left arm still stung, but the blood was already beginning to clot and dry around the fabric of his sleeve. That would do well to staunch the bleeding, his mind said. Still a little disoriented from the fall, he crawled forward on his hands and knees, searching for his sword. It had fallen somewhere nearby, he was sure of it.

Bodies lay strewn across the ground, many of them badly disfigured, saturated in blood, or moaning in agony. Wolfram inhaled deeply and winced. He wasn't sure what had been injured after his horse decided to use him as a welcome mat, but he would have preferred it if the damn beast had kicked him in the head. He could deal with a concussion better than the current pain in his lungs every time he took a breath. As he muttered a few more curses to himself, his eyes lit up as they fell upon his sword. Wasting no time, the blond quickly scrambled to his feet and snatched the weapon up. He surveyed the battlefield, his heart sinking a little at the sight of so many of his slaughtered comrades. The fight was far from over, but he could already tell who the losing side was.

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A/N: I know, that's a terrible place to end it. I really had more to write, but I'm getting tired. yawns


	2. Chapter 2

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The edges of sanity temporarily began to weave themselves back together in his mind as the affects of the slight concussion Wolfram had incurred gradually disappeared. The sheer malice inflicted upon his brigade was more than enough to set his temper alight with newfound fury. The fact that they were outnumbered and unprepared for such a siege only reinforced his vehement feelings of discord. Emitting a hoarse battle cry, he rushed headlong back into the fray. Metal met flesh once more as the young prince struck down his enemies with an alarming display of speed and conviction. Never before had he been filled with so much animosity, his rage threatening to overflow as he mindlessly began to summon a ball of fire in his left hand.

Lord von Bielefeld generally employed his magic only if he deemed the situation absolutely necessary. After all, the use of such power drained him both physically and mentally. Tactfully, he decided not to remind himself of these detrimental factors as he hurled a stream of fire at his intended target. The first attack sent his opponent sprawling back, screaming in agony as he clutched the side of his face. The hair on his head had been singed right off while the rest of his visage had not been nearly so lucky. Wolfram smirked as he admired his handiwork. The man drew his hand away slowly only to realize that there were charred layers of skin clinging to his palm. Despite the macabre scene in front of him, the blond couldn't help but take a particular satisfaction in it. Something inside made his stomach twist into knots at this startling revelation. Though given to wild tantrums and occasional rough-housing in response to Yuuri's fidelity, Wolfram was essentially not a violent individual. At least he thought he wasn't. However, in the throes of battle, some primordial element had taken over the rational side of his brain, and the exposed muscular tissue along with the rich scent of blood oozing from the man's marred face sent chills down his spine as he relished in the sight before him. Regardless of the outcome, this battle would not be soon forgotten; the fire-wielding prince would see to that.

After the initial experimentation with his powers, he summoned a dozen more fire balls, bringing down men left and right with his deadly combination of sword and flame. Of course it wasn't a flawless fight by any means. He received his fair share of hits, cuts, and abrasions. A small bruise began to discolor the delicately pale skin on his cheek, while a few minor cuts adorned his forearms, the blood already coagulating against the blue fabric of his uniform. A considerable sized welt had begun to form near the base of his skull where it had connected with the ground when he was unceremoniously thrown from his horse, and his back ached tremendously after the subsequent trampling. Yet amid all the damage, the surge of adrenaline radiating throughout his body served as an anesthetic, masking the severity of his injuries and numbing his mind to the brutality of his actions. Wolfram continued his fiery onslaught, that is, until a strong aura flooded his system and brought him painfully to his knees.

Wolfram immediately clutched his chest, his heart pounding like a trip hammer. His temples throbbed with each heartbeat and he was sure the palpitations would force the muscle right through his rib cage had another wave of pain not washed over him at that moment, jarring his senses completely. His sword fell to the ground and he braced himself with one arm, the other still gripping his chest. It was an excruciating feeling and it shot through every fiber of his being causing his vision to blur slightly. This had not been the first time he had encountered such intense discomfort, though discomfort was hardly the word to describe it. Any time he came too close to houjutsu magic, he lost total control of his nervous system. His body folded in on itself, refusing to obey his commands despite his best efforts to regain custody of himself. The blond couldn't help but let out a muffled cry. He gritted his teeth and struggled to keep his head up, sweat dripping down his forehead from exertion. There could only be one explanation for this sudden assault on his senses. They had to be _human_—no wonder it had been so easy for them to take down his best soldiers, most of whom were powerful majutsu users. He should have expected as much, especially with the unprecedented way in which they initiated battle, the contemptible heathens. Wolfram inwardly cursed himself. More than anything, he hated the fact that he so easily succumbed to the power of the houseki stones. Being the youngest brother in his family, he was always trying to prove himself, working diligently to master the art of magic or perfect his swordsmanship skills. Regardless of his intentions, he always seemed to fail and that knowledge cut him deeper than any blade could ever manage. Fortunately, pride overpowered any notions of self-pity he harbored and the young prince valiantly pushed on, determined to show the world…or at least Yuuri and his family…that he was a force to be reckoned with. He certainly was in the eyes of the soldiers he had slain today.

Wolfram mulled this new piece of information around in his head for a bit, and although it helped him to establish _what_ his enemy was, it did nothing to assist him in determining exactly _who_ he was fighting. As if someone had been reading his mind, Wolfram was finally introduced to his assailant.

The blond slowly gazed up at the approaching figure. He was a tall man who appeared to be in his thirties. He had tawny colored hair that was neatly pulled back and carried a large sword that seemed to have houseki stones embedded in the hilt. As he came closer, Wolfram couldn't help but to take in every inch of him, from his blood-stained boots, to the plated armor protecting his chest and shoulders. His emerald colored eyes finally rested on the small scar that ran across the left side of the soldier's temple. His eyes were cold and grey and the sight of them caused Wolfram to involuntarily shiver; though whether that was directly related to his countenance or a side effect from the powerful houjustu he could not tell.

"Lord Von Bielefeld?" the man asked as he slid the tip of his sword under Wolfram's chin, forcing the boy's head up.

Wolfram instinctively narrowed his eyes and the man took this as a sign of acknowledgement.

"I heard you were prone to sea-sickness, but how are you at flying?" the man asked, a sinister smirk curling its way across his lips.

Before Wolfram had any time to contemplate this bizarre question, a great blast of energy slammed into him full throttle, sending the young soldier several feet into the air. He landed with bone-crushing force some distance away and did not move.

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A/N: I really haven't set a specific time frame in which this story occurs. I guess we'll see as I go along. Just to let you all know I only get a few hours a week to work on this, so that's why the chapters are so short. Back in the day, I used to post long ass chapters for all my fics, but I find it easier nowadays if I compose shorter chapters. That way I can update more often. Good deal huh? Anyway, another terrible cliffhanger. Blah. I know! I'm working on it! Also, I apologize in advance for any discrepancies regarding the rules of houjutsu/majutsu/etc. I'm trying to go back and watch the first season again, so I can remember how it all works, but in the meantime…just think of it as a healthy dose of deus ex machina. LOL!

AngelSachiya: Thanks for being the first to review! I really appreciate the feedback.

001anonymous: Wow! I'm really glad I could pull off a decent fight scene. LOL! It's been ages since I've written anything aside from school papers. I was trying to get the right amount of seriousness and drama without it being too confusing and over the top. I'm happy I could oblige.

Sir Gawain of Camelot:  Hehe. I like your assessment. Either way it is definitely an attention getter is it not? To be honest, I'm not even sure where I'm going with this story, but I am very flattered that you think so highly of the schlock I've written thus far. I'll try not to disappoint in future chapters.

Eve: Your s/n makes me think of WallE. XD Anywho, I'm actually pleased that you had to look some of the words up. Not to sound all high and mighty or anything, but I don't think enough writers, especially on here, really push the envelope when it comes to verbiage. Also, hope this chapter provides you with the hints you so desire. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Wolfram lay on the ground for what seemed to him to be an interminable period of time. His entire body was numb with the effects of the houjutsu, rendering his limbs completely immobile and useless.

_A fine way for a soldier to die_, he thought bitterly. It was bad enough to be defeated by a human, it was even worse to be utterly helpless in what he thought was his final hour.

As he lay there, his mind desperately urged the rest of his body to move, but it was painfully clear that his efforts would go unrewarded. No matter how hard he willed his limbs to work they simply would not budge. He couldn't even muster enough strength to wiggle a finger and he soon found that the struggle to do so only exacerbated his condition. In fact, the entire ordeal left him feeling quite dizzy and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to stop the sky from spinning. The fact that his eyelids continued to function at all gave him some respite, but did little else to restore his confidence.

Wolfram's normally iridescent green eyes were now glazed over as he cautiously opened them. They rolled around in his head like marbles as he tried to focus in on his surroundings. Something was off, yet he couldn't quite place it. Seconds passed by and the vertigo finally subsided. Beads of sweat had already begun their descent down the smooth curves of his face. It was then that it occurred to him. _Sound_. There was a horrendous battle taking place, yet the young prince could not hear a thing. This realization immediately caused his stomach to flutter, and a new sensation of dread washed over him.

Then a second, more comforting thought came to mind. _Temporary_. Yes, this was only temporary he chided himself. He had never been hit with this much houjutsu before. Conrad had once used a houseki stone against him and while he had suffered minor paralysis, the effects had dissipated quickly thereafter. His brother had warned him that a stronger attack would prove to be much more debilitating. Did that mean the effects would merely last longer, or did it mean there was a degree of permanency to them?

The blond managed to push these thoughts aside just as a large boot came down next to his face. His eyes slowly moved up to gaze at the shadowy figure looming over him. The man's mouth moved, but it was as if he were watching a pantomime. Unfortunately, reading lips was not a skill that Wolfram was particularly adept at and the words spoken were ultimately lost on him. He felt the tip of the man's boot nudge his face and narrowed his eyes when his head rolled, unbidden, to one side.

"I would have expected you to be a greater threat, considering you wiped out a good third of my men. Very disappointing Lord von Bielefeld." the man scoffed, drawing his weapon.

The sword glinted in the sunlight and Wolfram inhaled sharply as cold steel pressed into the small indentation where his trachea was located. On the one hand, this was a good sign as it meant he was starting to regain some feeling. However, he would have preferred it if the circumstances had been a bit more in his favor. The young soldier despised vulnerability, especially his own.

The man's lips moved once more and Wolfram decided that he was actually glad he could not hear him. Anyone that spent this much time talking instead of killing their enemy was obviously a fool unworthy of his time.

The boy continued to stare up at him, sheer defiance etched across his features. Whatever this man intended to do, Wolfram would not give him the satisfaction of showing fear even though a small part of him was terrified at the prospect of dying.

Emerald eyes darted back and forth in anticipation as he watched the man draw his sword, preparing to strike, but the final blow did not come. Seconds passed as the young mazoku awaited his fate. It was then that he distinctly felt the earth vibrate beneath him, and although his hearing was impaired, he didn't need to hear the hoof beats to know they were fastly approaching.

Without preamble, a flash of chestnut and tan briefly entered his field of vision. The young prince strained to see what was happening, but only caught a glimpse of reflected light from the blade of Conrad's sword. The ground beneath him shook with a slight tremor and neither sight nor sound was necessary to tell him that his adversary had fallen.

"Wolfram?!" Conrad cried as he leapt down from his horse. "Are you all right?" he asked, quickly looking him over.

Soft brown eyes met Wolfram's and had he been able to hear, he would have detected a small hint of concern in his older brother's voice. All he could do was look back at him, somehow managing a small nod. Conrad's eyes swiftly assessed his younger brother's injuries. Nothing too serious, he assured himself as he immediately helped Wolfram onto his horse. With his brother in place, he hastily mounted as well, seating himself behind the younger boy so he could support him in the saddle.

Wolfram couldn't help but slump forward. He still did not have full use of his body just yet and his hands trembled, trying to grip the saddle horn. Seizing the reins with one hand, Conrad reached around his waist and eased Wolfram back against his chest.

"Just lean back, you'll be okay," he said in a calm voice.

Wolfram felt the soft vibration of Conrad's chest and while he couldn't hear the words, instinctively he obeyed.

The battlefield was still awash with small skirmishes here and there, but for the most part the mazoku's numbers had been significantly depleted. Wolfram could only stare in horror as they rode past his fallen comrades. Where were they going, he wondered, where did Conrad intend to take them? They couldn't just leave, not when the battle was still underway.

He wanted to yell at his brother, make him stop or turn around, but when he opened his mouth no sound escaped his lips.

This new realization startled him and he quickly opened his mouth to try again. Nothing. He swallowed hard and a heavy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. This can't be! Silent tears began to well up in his eyes and he stubbornly blinked them back. It will pass, he reminded himself. His hearing would come back, and his voice as well. He had to reinforce these thoughts as though they would not come to fruition if he doubted them.

Of course Yuuri would probably be more than happy if he didn't have to hear his voice again, Wolfram mused. That wimp! It was then he decided that he would definitely regain his vocal abilities, and after that he'd be sure to let Yuuri know exactly how he felt about his treacherous thoughts.

Lord von Bielefeld was abruptly pulled from his deliberations as the horse began to pick up speed. His body joggled up and down like a rag doll and he fervently wished he was able to squeeze his legs around the horse's barrel or at least get a better grip on the animal's mane. The rocking motion did nothing to aid his present condition and in fact was making him quite nauseous. As if in response to the boy's thoughts, Conrad's arms tightened around him, steadying him somewhat from the constant jostling.

"It is a shameful act to abandon one's troops, but if we stay, then we'll die here. And if that happens there will be no one to warn his majesty about this new threat," Conrad explained. "These soldiers are well aware of that and have pledged their lives to the Maou. So that they do not die in vain, we must make every effort to return home," he finished, spurring the horse on.

Wolfram painfully craned his head to the side; a deep feeling of remorse rose up in his chest. He knew why they had to leave, he was sure that's what Conrad was trying to tell him, but it still did not sit well with the young man.

Just as Wolfram managed to turn his head forward again, a small black blur whizzed past his right side. The arrow struck the horse's shoulder and caused the animal to rear. Conrad yanked the reins back, trying to regain control of the frightened beast as more arrows began to rain down upon them. Somehow, he was able to seize command once more and viciously dug his heels into the horse's flanks, sending the animal sprinting across the field.

The horse galloped wildly toward the far end of the field where a cluster of trees signified the beginnings of a forest. Conrad glanced back over his shoulder, noting four horsemen in pursuit of them, all equipped with bows and arrows. With no trail in sight, he blindly urged the large animal through the trees. Scattered branches whipped and tore at the horse and its riders as it weaved through the surrounding foliage. It came crashing through a thicket of bushes and narrowly slid over the edge of a tall ridge overlooking a large valley below them. Wolfram's heart leapt into his throat and Conrad yanked back on the reins, guiding the agitated beast away from the steep drop.

He immediately sent it into a gallop again as he heard their pursuers closing in. Wolfram wished he could do something, anything to help, but he was powerless. If he had full control of his senses, he could easily knock their opponents down with a wave of maryoku. However, before the blond had anymore time to berate himself, he was suddenly lurched sideways. He could feel his brother's arms tighten around him, threatening to suffocate him as the world flipped upside down. A single arrow had hit its mark, striking deep into the cannon bone of the horse's left front leg. This caused the animal to falter, as both riders were thrown haphazardly over the side of the cliff.

All at once the world seemed to move in slow motion as both men hit the ground and tumbled violently down the hillside. Conrad could not keep his grip on the boy for long and they were both forced apart as they continued their descent. Wolfram felt himself slam into something hard, and for the second time that day the wind was knocked from him. With no way to brace himself, his arms and legs flailed wildly as he continued to roll downhill.

Conrad tucked his arms in and tried to shield himself as best he could as the two plummeted down the slope, hitting all manner of rocks and shrubbery in their path. He felt more than he heard a sharp snap as his arm hit the ground at an odd angle, forcing all his weight onto his wrist. The brown haired man could only manage a small grunt as the horizon continued to spin. Then a sharp pain shot through his skull and darkness consumed him, bringing his surroundings to a grinding halt.

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A/N: Ha! Sorry everyone, but all my creative juices have dried up, so this is where I'm gonna end this chapter. I need to take a break and recharge. Not much to say about this one. I just hope there aren't too many inaccuracies in my descriptions. I also hope I'm doing a good job so far…at least it is somewhat entertaining right? Heh.

**Eve:** No, the enemy is not from the anime. Gee, I really hope I didn't screw up and describe an existing character. I like creating original enemies, because then I have freer reign over their personalities.

**AngelSachiya:** Thanks for the continued support! I'm always happy to get reviews. It gives me a reason to keep writing.


	4. Chapter 4

Wolfram awoke to a blur of shapes and colors. Swirls of blue and green danced across his field of vision and it took his brain a few seconds to acclimate itself to being upright and motionless. The colors finally ceased moving long enough to form solid objects and the prince could see that he was in the middle of a forest. The effects of the houjutsu were apparently beginning to wear off a little; at least, he noted, that he had the use of his arms and legs again. He couldn't say as much for his hearing as he watched a few birds flutter silently up in the trees.

The blond frowned at this and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, but no sooner had he done so than a sharp pain ripped through his chest. Wolfram winced and hunched forward, pulling an arm protectively into his mid-section. A small scowl formed on his face and he inhaled deeply, forcing the air out through his mouth. Obviously he wouldn't be trying that little maneuver again anytime soon. That was all well and good for him since his first attempt at sitting up had proven successful.

Emerald eyes slowly scanned his surroundings, all the while trying to remember exactly how he had arrived in this predicament. For some reason his ribs were very sore. _A horse_…he remembered that much. Wasn't that at the beginning of the fight though? If so, how did he—the blond stopped midway through his recollection as his gaze fell upon a rumpled heap of light brown fabric and tangled limbs laying only a few feet away.

_Conrad?!_ His mind jerked into action.

This sudden image caused a cluster of synapses to fire inside his head, revealing memories from the previous events of the day.

_Dammit_, he cursed inwardly as he crawled towards his brother's unconscious form.

Wolfram opened his mouth to call out his brother's name, but was greeted by nothing save air. He tried again, straining his vocal chords to their full extent, but still the tell-tale vibration of speech did not reverberate in his chest.

A pale hand shot out and rested on Conrad's shoulder. The boy shook the older man lightly in a vain attempt to rouse him. Conrad's chest rose and fell, but his body did nothing else to acknowledge the young prince's efforts.

_Well, at least he's breathing_, Wolfram thought. His eyes trailed down to Conrad's wrist, which was difficult to ignore, considering it had swollen to twice its normal size and was turning an unhealthy shade of purple. He gently picked it up and inspected it. It must have been injured during their fall, he mused. Lord von Bielefeld was not much of a healer, but he had been trained early on in the way of manipulating his magic in order to treat wounds. A simple request like this was easy to fulfill, that is if he could remember how to reset the broken bones.

The blond looked down at his own wrists and noted their alignment. He glanced back at Conrad's and saw that one side of his radial bone had shifted to the right and was protruding through the skin. Although he was used to seeing blood and all manner of gore, he couldn't help but shudder at this particular sight, being somewhat reminded of the time Conrad had lost his arm.

He furrowed his brows as a wave of nausea washed over him. Why in hell had he been cursed with such a weak stomach?! Wolfram stubbornly forced the ill feelings aside and set his jaw in determination. His brother was always there to protect him and quite frankly he was sick of it. It wasn't fair for Conrad to take on so much responsibility. Besides that, the prince reasoned that he was just as capable of handling urgent situations as either of his brothers. Although part of him hated to admit, in most cases he managed to get in way over his head, but that was more Yuuri's fault than anything. He was the one who led Wolfram into such quandaries in the first place.

These thoughts of his affianced deterred him momentarily as he painfully removed his scabbard and unbuttoned his coat. Slipping the tattered fabric off, he carefully folded it and placed it behind Conrad's head, noting a thin line of dried blood caked down the side of his face. He cautiously removed his white undershirt, even though parading around bare-chested in the open was an absolutely reprehensible act, and began tearing it into strips. Gisela's first-aid lessons actually did come in handy, he remarked to himself. He carefully laid the strips of cloth out before him. The blond had been so set on the task at hand he had scarcely taken notice of his own injuries save for the occasional aching or soreness when he moved.

Blotches of purple and blue covered the normally flawless skin on his upper body, while small, partially healed lacerations adorned his arms. His stomach had an odd, rosy-colored burn on it from being hit by the houjutsu, but it appeared to be slowly fading away as his body's healing powers took charge.

As he glanced down at the makeshift bandages a thought occurred to him. There was something missing from his assortment. He tried to remember what else was required when he caught sight of a tiny leaf embedded in his disheveled blond locks. Wolfram petulantly plucked the small ornament from his hair only to discover there were more caught amid the errant strands. Nimble fingers combed through the golden tangles, as he picked a few additional leaves and twigs out. _Twigs? Of course!_ That's what he needed….well not necessarily twigs, but some kind of sturdy, flat object he could use to bind Conrad's wrist.

His eyes eagerly scanned the landscape until they rested upon a hollow log a few feet away. He could use bits of wood from the log to suit his purpose. Now it was only a matter of getting to the blasted thing. In his current condition, his body refused to move more than two inches before reminding him of his physical state, but there was no way around it.

Lord von Bielefeld let out a deep sigh and summoned his resolve. It wasn't that far anyway, he convinced himself as he carefully made his way over to the fallen log on hands and knees. Sweat dripped down his face and chest from sheer exertion accompanied by the fact that his body was still trying to heal itself.

The boy heaved a well-earned sigh of relief upon arriving at his destination. Using a small rock he found nestled between log and earth, he chipped away at the bark until he finally managed to knock off a few usable pieces. He gathered these up and made his way haphazardly back to his brother's side. This took longer than he originally anticipated as he clutched the pieces to his chest with one hand and tried to move about like a three-legged dog, only succeeding in stumbling forward and falling on his face twice. This obviously did not bode well for his injured ribs and he winced in pain as he tried to recover each time he fell.

Wolfram felt more like a monkey than anything else and was glad nobody was around to witness his performance. He finally figured out a way to cover more ground by planting his free hand in the grass, and then slid himself across on his knees. _A rather amusing spectacle indeed_, he observed with a baleful expression.

Now covered in a light sheen of sweat, his golden hair matted against his forehead, he inched his way to Conrad's side once more. It took several minutes for him to compose himself. His limbs were shaking with fatigue, but he insisted on going through with the whole ordeal. Once the trembling subsided, he set to work on his brother's injury.

Wolfram swallowed hard, wiped his hands on his thighs, and carefully wrapped his fingers around Conrad's wrist. The young mazoku was concentrating so intently, he failed to notice that he was biting his lower lip until a faint coppery taste permeated his mouth. The soft glow of green healing maryoku enveloped the swollen wrist and after several minutes the swelling had gone down considerably; unfortunately so had Wolfram's energy levels. This was the first time he had ever attempted healing someone when he himself was so badly in need of medical attention. Steeling himself to finish the job, he firmly grasped both sides of the fracture. All he needed was to force the bones back into place.

The blond inhaled deeply through his nose and grit his teeth, mentally preparing for the next step. A small lump had formed in the pit of his stomach and he hoped he was doing the right thing. It did occur to him that he could simply just wait until help arrived or at least splint the fracture, but something deep down urged him to do go on.

With a quick wrenching motion, he felt the bones shift back into place. Had he been able to perceive sound, he would have heard the ghastly popping noise that accompanied his actions. Thankfully, he could not. Conrad jerked to life at his ministrations, crying out in pain. The movement startled the boy more than anything and for a brief instant he felt as though he had muddled the whole procedure. Emerald eyes, glazed with exhaustion, inspected the newly re-set bones. His older brother's forearm was perfectly straight again and he let out a relieved breath.

Wolfram placed a sweaty palm on Conrad's forehead and eased him back down into a horizontal position. He was not fully conscious and Wolfram wished he had the voice to utter soothing words to him, but all he could do was run his fingers through Conrad's hair and rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

After he had taken a few moments to console his unconscious sibling, he began to wrap his wrist, using the pieces of his torn shirt and the wooden slats he had procured from the upturned tree. Once his brother's wrist was sufficiently bandaged he scooted over towards his head and tended to that area as well, his muscles aching each time he lifted Conrad's head to wrap another strip of cloth around it. Mending was very difficult work, no wonder he despised learning about healing magic when he was younger.

By the time he had finished, the sun was hanging low in the sky. It would be dusk soon and they had nowhere to seek refuge. Wolfram propped himself up against one of the trees and watched Conrad sleep. His worry had grown exceedingly as each hour passed while his hearing and speech had still not returned. Surely the effects of the houjutsu would have worn off by now. More importantly, if they couldn't find shelter, they would at least need food and water. He wasn't sure how they would obtain either of those things. The blond prince had already used quite a bit of maryoku in order to heal Conrad and it left his body even weaker than before. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open at this point. He had neither the strength to get up and forage, nor the energy to trek through the forest in search of a stream.

The boy struggled to keep his hold on the last ounce of power he did possess, but his efforts were becoming more and more difficult as his body began to slacken against the base of the tree. His head lulled forward as his eyes closed and he quickly jolted awake when he felt small tremors on the ground beneath him.

The horsemen had returned.

--

A/N: Ya know what…I'm thinking it might be nice to have a beta reader for this fic, just to catch all the stupid mistakes. lol! If anyone's interested, let me know. It'd be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of as well. Anyways, sorry this chapter isn't as exciting as the previous ones. I always read about fics where Wolfram is the victim, and while I love torturing him, I thought it'd be a change of pace if he took command of the situation for once. To all the Wolfram abusers, don't worry; I still have plans for him yet. Ke ke ke. I haven't even introduced the main villains yet and I still need to bring the others in. XD

As always, thanks to everyone who R+R! I can't tell you how much it means to me.

Eve: Don't worry about apologizing! I'm just glad you like the fic so far. -le sigh- I really have developed quite a crush on Conrad. I love when he saves the day. -giggles- I'm hoping to include more brotherly love goodness in future chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of hooves penetrated the deepest reaches of Conrad's consciousness, echoing through his ears, and jarring him from the tranquil abyss he had accustomed himself to. A rush of leftover adrenaline from his previous flight surged through his veins as he bolted upright, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

Soft brown eyes slowly came into focus and quickly narrowed in apprehension. The last thing Conrad remembered was tumbling down the side of a hill and then—his eyes swiftly darted from left to right, searching his surroundings.

Wolfram's legs were wobbly as he pushed himself up against the tree he had been sitting under only moments before. One arm braced the trunk for support. His head drooped so that his bangs, matted with sweat, shrouded his face and it was all he could do to keep upright under the present circumstances.

Conrad hastily got to his feet, perhaps a little too quickly, he noted as the horizon began to sway. A dull ache emanated from the back of his skull, casually reminding him that any sudden movements on his part would be met with a stern reproach from the rest of his body.

He glanced down for a second to steady himself, finally noticing the binding around his wrist. Had his brother done this? If so, he was impressed to say the least. For some reason, he hadn't thought Wolfram retained any knowledge of first aid, especially since he was so adamant about learning it in the first place.

It was then that he caught sight of the young prince. The mottled bruises covering the pale skin of his back made him hard to miss, even in the fading sunlight.

"Wolfram!" he choked out, his voice sounding strangely odd to him, probably due to the fact that his throat was dry. He swallowed a few times and coughed, clearing his lungs of the dust and debris that had accumulated during his hazardous trip down the side of the ridge.

Conrad's brows furrowed. His interjection had not elicited an immediate response from his younger brother and he wondered if the blond had even heard him.

"Wolfram," he tried again, "are you okay?" Conrad began to walk forward, but instantly broke into a sprint as his brother collapsed under the dim shadows of the tree.

Strong arms encircled Wolfram's frail form, hoisting him up into a sitting position. Conrad pressed a thumb to the boy's forehead and brushed away a few golden strands that threatened to conceal his face.

The blond stubbornly forced his eyes open at Conrad's touch. Dull emeralds met the amiable brown of his older brother's and a small sense of relief flooded his system. The feeling was short-lived, however, as the earth trembled with greater intensity beneath him, an indication that the horses were getting closer.

He opened his mouth to tell Conrad, but his jaw hung slack as he tried ineffectively to force sound from it. Conrad gave him a slightly bewildered look.

"Are you in pain?" he queried, shifting himself a bit as he held the boy up, his eyes thoroughly inspecting all of Wolfram's visible injuries.

Wolfram stared helplessly at his older brother, a new sense of dread wound its way around his heart, causing tears to sting the corners of his eyes. What if the damage was permanent? Hours had passed and he had regained the full use of all his other senses. Why couldn't he hear? Why hadn't his voice returned?

Conrad was still perplexed. Something was definitely wrong with Wolfram, but for whatever reason the boy was not telling him. He gently shook the blond, ashamed of his own impatience with the injured prince, but desperate for answers.

"Wolfram, this is not the time to be stubborn. Please tell me what's wrong," he implored with an authoritative tone he generally reserved for argumentative purposes.

The blond watched the man's lips move and wanted to cry out in anguish. This was pure torture, a horrible nightmare. His heart began to beat faster as he took a few ragged breaths. Conrad could see that his sibling was becoming quite agitated and still did not fully comprehend why. Surely it was due to some discomfort he was deliberately hiding from him.

"Wolfram!" he shouted, grabbing the prince's shoulder tightly with his good hand. It was an unsuccessful attempt at restraining the boy's apparent anxiety, but at present he could think of nothing else.

Small fingers gripped Conrad's arms, digging deep into his flesh. The blond applied enough pressure to leave indentation marks and perhaps a few miniscule bruises as well. Wolfram glared at the older man and pushed him back. He did not appreciate being handled in such a manner, especially when he couldn't even give a verbal retort.

Surprisingly, Conrad was taken aback by his brother's reaction, even though he was quite used to Wolfram's rebukes by now. He hadn't meant to upset him, but he needed information on his physical well-being, not to mention any knowledge he might be able to share regarding their assailants.

In times of peril, Conrad always remained level-headed and was not easily suaded by emotion. By contrast, Wolfram was highly sensitive and generally let his feelings get in the way of better judgment. Not to say that Conrad didn't have his share of passionate moments, but he wisely kept his feelings in reserve. Only in that brief instant when Wolfram had not responded to him, did a small crack make itself visible in his façade.

Wolfram wished he could exhibit such restraint, but it was simply not a part of his genetic makeup. He knew he should have informed Conrad of his condition as soon as he awoke, but his natural tendency toward obstinacy prevented him from doing so. Even now, he was struggling with the precise way in which he would tell him that he was both deaf and mute. He did not want any pity from the older man. It was bad enough he had been sufficiently beaten on the field of battle and had to be rescued, he could not stomach the idea of Conrad, an accomplished soldier, looking down on him with such repulsive charity.

"I'm sorry," Conrad said, bowing his head slightly.

Wolfram placed a faltering hand on Conrad's wrist, somehow acknowledging his brother's apology even though he hadn't directly heard it.

The older man's head slowly lifted and he regarded the boy with a curious expression that was mingled with a marked seriousness. Wolfram recognized that look and knew that above all else, Conrad's first priority was that of a soldier. The role of guardian and concerned family member came in at a close second. This meant that he needed answers and was in no mood for childish behavior.

Finally, pursing his lips in defeat, he brought a slender hand up to his mouth. This game of charades was altogether humiliating for the young prince, but it was the only way to illustrate his condition to Conrad. With his mouth covered he shook his head, a forlorn expression settling over his features. He had not meant to betray himself by this outward display and silently cursed his body for showing such vulnerability. The air of dignity he had strived to maintain was thoroughly quashed by now and it was just as well. He doubted he had the strength to pursue it any longer.

Letting out a deep sigh he repeated the gesture, even going so far as to open his mouth in a failed effort to speak. Conrad watched him intently, his brows creasing as realization dawned on him. Wolfram scowled at the pitiful look his brother gave him. Pushing his enraged thoughts aside he pointed to his ear and shook his head again. He then brought his hand down to his stomach where it rested atop the rose-colored scar, evidence of his run-in with the houjutsu user.

Conrad's breath caught in his throat. He knew the effects of houjutsu to be severely detrimental to the mazoku race, but he had never heard of anyone who had lost the ability to hear or speak. He hoped this was just a rare case and that the symptoms would soon subside. He couldn't help but feel sympathy towards his little brother; of course Wolfram would never forgive him if he knew. The strong sense of machismo was inherent in the fire-wielder, Conrad knew that well enough. Obviously something deeply rooted in his past, he concluded.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of being abandoned by his father at such a young age, or growing up in a time when the country was engulfed in chaos. It could even have been attributed to the boy's not-so-secret attempt at living in Gwendal's shadow, or a combination of all of the above.

As young as he was when he lost his father, Wolfram had not exactly known the man very well. However, he knew enough to understand that he was unwanted by the very person who had sired him. Many people assumed it was because he was ashamed of Wolfram's obvious effeminate qualities. Conrad believed this was the reason why Wolfram tried with such ardent resolve to harden himself into a stalwart individual. Given the boy's history of holding grudges, he could only concede that he was still trying to earn his father's favor, despite the fact that the man was long dead and gone. It was a moot subject though, and one never spoken of among the occupants of Blood Pledge castle.

Wolfram's eyelids began to droop, as did the rest of his features. He had managed to hold out long enough for his brother, but after sustaining so much damage from the houjutsu, not to mention the use of what little healing powers he possessed in order to help Conrad, his body was completely drained of its energy. The blond finally succumbed to the beckoning darkness, falling limply into his brother's arms.

--

Conrad carefully slid his arms under the boy's prone figure and cautiously lifted him up, holding him close to his chest. Despite all the recent happenings, luck was actually on their side this time. The setting sun shrouded the forest in darkness, neatly concealing them from their pursuers.

A stir of hoofbeats passed nearby and Conrad swiftly took cover behind a cluster of trees. He held his breath as a few riders came within dangerous proximity of their hiding place. One of the soldiers dismounted and began assessing the foliage for any signs that might indicate a disturbance. Fortunately, Conrad was all too knowledgeable in the way of tracking techniques, and while Yozak's skill in this area easily surpassed his own, he knew how to tread lightly and move through the forest with the stealth of a panther.

In fact, when he and his cross-dressing friend were younger, they would often make a game of tracking each other through the hills. Sometimes these little excursions would last for days and to them it was like a glorified version of hide-and-seek. At one point, Conrad had become so adept at it that it took Yozak nearly a week to find him. Of course the red-head was none too pleased at having spent the better part of a week clambering through the woods in search of his best friend, but he had to admit that it did help him hone his hunting skills.

Conrad watched the man under the cover of a bramble bush as he knelt down and scanned the earth for footprints. Sufficiently satisfied with his examination, he mounted his horse and led his companions off. Waiting several minutes for them to complete their departure, he eventually breathed a soft sigh of relief and scooped Wolfram up once more.

All they had to do now was find some form of shelter, make it through the night undetected, and begin the long journey back to Shin Makoku in the morning, all while evading their would-be captors. In that time frame, Conrad hoped to obtain suitable provisions for their trek back to civilization—namely food and water, and with any degree of divine providence a reunion with at least one of their horses, though he placed little faith in that prospect.

The brunet walked a few yards from their previous location and set Wolfram down behind a formation of large rocks, constantly wary of any sound that might indicate the return of their new friends. Despite the boy's light weight it was still a rather difficult task to carry him while Conrad's wrist throbbed relentlessly. A chill was beginning to creep into the air and before long the night would bring on freezing temperatures. It was not yet winter time, but autumn had its share of cold weather.

Conrad remembered to bring Wolfram's coat with him before they departed from the base of the ridge and he carefully draped it over his little brother. It would do for the time being, but a fire would be more adequate. Unfortunately, they could not risk exposing their location, so it was up to Conrad to find accommodations for the night. He gave one last anxious glance at his brother's unconscious form, hoping he wouldn't come around before he returned. The last thing he needed was for the young mazoku to awaken, become fearful of his new surroundings, and stumble blindly through the dark in search of him. Which would be exactly the case knowing his brother's impetuous personality.

The way Conrad saw it, they had a few options available to them, but he couldn't decide which one would be more feasible. Their unexpected tumble down the side of the hill meant they were now at the bottom of a very large valley. Incidentally, they were on the exact opposite side of where they ought to have been, meaning they would either have to navigate over the hill—which would require at least a full day's travel if not more given their method of transportation—or they would have to locate the stream that intersected the land and follow it until it curved back around on the side of the hill that faced Shin Makoku.

If their erstwhile companions were still tracking them, traversing the valley would be a rather troublesome task indeed. No doubt, they would have expected them to follow the running water instead of making the treacherous hike back up the hill. Then again, plan B also had its own set of problems. Would Wolfram be able to make the climb in his weakened condition? To his knowledge, they only had one canteen between them. Would that be enough water for their trip? Then there was the issue of Wolfram's disability. If something were to happen, how would he be able to direct his brother properly? Communication would be difficult, but not impossible he reasoned. If only he had gotten to him sooner during the battle, but even he couldn't have predicted the outcome of their encounter.

Conrad mulled these thoughts around in his head a bit more as he made his way through the overgrown brush. He could hear water up in the distance and was sure they were fairly close to the stream or at least one of its tributaries. If nothing else, he would return with fresh water.

Once out of the coverage of the trees, Conrad could see that the moon was large and full in the night sky. Its light shown brilliantly across the water, casting an eerie glow over the aquatic surface.

The brunet knelt down near the edge of the stream, withdrew his canteen and dipped it into the cold running liquid. Keeping his balance was somewhat awkward as he was unable to put any weight on his left wrist. Instead, he sat on his knees and propped himself up using his elbow as he skimmed the water with his other arm. He brought the bottle to his lips and drank thirstily, emptying it of its contents within seconds and repeated this action once more before refilling it, capping it off, and placing it back in its holster.

A heavy feeling began to sink into the pit of his stomach and before he could muster his sword or turn around cold steel pricked the back of his neck, causing the fine hairs that ran along it to rise. The generally docile man glowered.

"Gotcha," a nasally voice snickered behind him, pressing the tip of the blade into the soft flesh, causing a small droplet of blood to bloom beneath it.

Conrad's eyes narrowed. He was in no mood for this at all.

--

A/N: And there it is! Sorry for another dull chapter, maybe the next one will be more exciting. I thought I'd never get this done. I was interrupted all weekend long. Plus, I had to take a break to play Wii Sports and Mario Kart. So who is this mystery person? I haven't decided yet. Could be friend, could be foe. Btw, just to let you all know I use the terms 'blond' and 'brunet' in the masculine form rather than 'blonde' and 'brunette' (the feminine forms), because obviously I'm referring to male characters. Just wanted to clear that up before anyone corrects me on my spelling. So what do you guys think…is this worth continuing? I don't know. Part of me is like 'blah this sucks' and the other part is all 'hey let's see where this is going.' I guess as long as ppl are still reading I'll keep writing. So please review! Thanks!


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